


all my faces are alibis

by whatdoiknowx



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoiknowx/pseuds/whatdoiknowx
Summary: Dan has a depressive episode while on tour.Written for the phandomficfests Tour Fest I





	all my faces are alibis

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to autumnhearth / autumn-in-phandom for being a great beta reader as always :)

Dan stares blankly at the ceiling, the faint drone of tires on asphalt the only noise cutting through the monotonous string of thoughts running through his mind. 

Not so much thoughts, more like a vague humming, half-formed sentences overlapping each other until they were just one massive blur in his fucked up head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he scolds himself for referring to his head, to himself, as fucked up. He wasn't supposed to do that. He doesn't have the energy to follow through with the self-admonishment, his whirring mind not letting him focus long enough to do so.

It was a frustrating contradiction of a mind somehow both void, yet so full of racing thoughts that Dan couldn't concentrate on one single thing long enough to pull himself back down to earth.

So he just lays there, letting the deafening silence wash over him, staring up at a spot on the ceiling, the only thing grounding him to reality.

\---

Phil stirs next to him sometime later, his back pressed against Dan's side. Dan wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours. He registers Phil turning over, and his eyes immediately close in response. He doesn't know why he does that, his body just responding to what his foggy brain told him to do. The empty feeling is still there but something else too, a sinking type of feeling in his gut, something akin to guilt or shame.

He feels the shuffle of covers, then feet pattering out of their little area at the back of the bus. He keeps his eyes closed as he hears the flush of the toilet, making sure to keep his breathing even as he feels the dip of the bed beside him. 

Soft snores eventually fill the silence, and Dan almost wants to cry, but he doesn't know why. He doesn't think he would even be able to cry if he tried, so instead he rolls onto his side, back turned to the peacefully sleeping man next to him. He stares out the small window, and a fleeting thought about how much he relates to the barren fields of nothingness outside makes its way through his jumbled mind.

\---

Dan wakes up to an empty bed and blinding brightness shining through the window. He must have fallen asleep at some point, but judging by the bone-deep tiredness, he must not have slept long.

Or maybe he slept for hours, and the crushing fatigue is just his new permanent state. It was hard to tell the difference on days like this.

He stares at his phone on the bedside table, eventually working himself up to actually reaching his arm out and taking hold of it. That one action wears him out even more, making him want to leave the phone on the bed and curl back up. 

It shouldn't be this hard. It shouldn't be this fucking hard to do one little stupid thing. 

He can hear muffled voices outside the door, in the main area of the bus. He should join them. A stronger person would get their ass up and be a functional human being.

He checks his phone finally. 11:17 a.m. 

They've got a show tonight, Dan suddenly remembers. They need to be ready for meet and greets in a few hours.

That thought alone is enough to have Dan turning back onto his side, knees brought up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

\---

He hears Phil come into the room. Something soft, a pillow he thinks, lands on his back.

"Hey sleepyhead, time to get up if you want to shower before we head to the venue."

Dan doesn't move, keeping his face buried into his pillow. He doesn't want to get up. There's no point in getting up. He wants to lay here for however long it takes for him to feel like there's a reason to get up, that life is worth living outside the confines of a thick duvet. He's not sure that time will ever come.

A voice in the back of his mind tells him that time will come, sooner than he thinks, but it's drowned out by the louder voices, screaming at him that life is pointless and he's pointless and this was all a massive fucking mistake.

He thought this tour would be easier. Last tour he was still a mess, still didn't have the right coping mechanisms to deal with the shit in his head. This tour though, he had done all the right things, all the things he was supposed to do. 

Even as the thought runs through his head, Dan knows it's a lie. He hadn't kept up with his yoga. His sleep schedule was shit. He'd been eating fairly healthy, sure, but not nearly as well as he should have. 

He was off his meds. 

He thought it would be fine this time around. Sure, he'd been struggling a bit at home without them, but he was supposed to be better at handling this now. He was supposed to be a better person.

He wasn't supposed to still be the same old fuck-up that couldn't deal with his own life.

"Dan, get your lazy ass out of bed." Phil's voice is light, teasing. Dan feels even more lost, even more alienated from the outside world. He couldn't relate, doesn't know what light felt like anymore.

The duvet is ripped off of him. Dan feels cold, but he already felt cold, so nothing's really changed. 

Fingers start tickling his neck, something that would usually have him squealing. Dan just groans. "Fuck off."

He hears Phil giggle quietly, probably thinking it was cute or fun to mess with Dan. He probably thinks Dan is just being his usual just-woke-up grumpy self. Dan wishes that were the case, wishes it so desperately he would give anything to have that be true.

He doesn't want to hurt Phil today. He's hurt Phil enough, on countless days like this one, and he hates it every time. They have a show to put on. At least one of them needs to be present for it.

Mustering up all the energy he has left, Dan opens his eyes and pulls back the duvet. 

"Morning," Phil says in a sing-song-y voice. It takes Dan a second to realize it's a joke, because it's actually early afternoon. He makes himself smile half-heartedly in response.

Lips brush against his forehead, and Dan can't have that, can't deal with any affection right now. He doesn't deserve it.

"I really need to pee," he mumbles out, crawling out of bed and moving past Phil, not meeting his eyes.

"Okay," he hears Phil call out cheerfully as Dan closes the small toilet door. "Hurry up, then meet us at the front of the bus." He adds something about how the bus is currently stopped at their next hotel, where they can shower and get ready before heading to the venue.

Dan barely hears him. He stares at himself in the mirror, taking in his bloodshot eyes and greasy hair. He looks disgusting and he should care more, but all he really notices is the vacant look in his own eyes. 

He suddenly registers that he actually does desperately need to pee, his bladder almost painfully full after hours of avoiding his basic needs. He relieves himself quickly, the normally satisfying feeling void of any enjoyment. 

\---

He manages to make it to their hotel room without having to talk to anyone. Phil was lost in conversation with their tour manager by the time Dan exited the bathroom, and they chatted the whole way up the lift and to their respective rooms. Dan had pretended to busy himself with his phone, and they thankfully left him alone.

Phil had claimed dibs on the first shower, so Dan tosses his suitcase and backpack on the floor somewhere and lays down on one of the beds. He is already exhausted from the journey from the bus to the hotel, already wants to just go back to sleep. He doesn't want to do a show tonight. He can't handle that, really can't handle that.

Momentarily, fear and anxiety overtake the empty feeling in his chest. He can't fucking deal with the world today, he just can't.

Phil comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wrapped up in towels but still managing to drip water all over the carpet. Dan would usually berate him for that.

"Your turn," Phil chirps, dropping his towels. Dan stares blankly as Phil pulls on a pair of pants.

Phil's fully dressed by the time he realizes Dan has made no move to get up. 

"Dan? Hurry up, babe, we don't have that much time." Phil's rifling through his suitcase, triumphantly pulling out a pair of sunglasses.

Dan doesn't move. He wants to, he doesn't want to disappoint Phil, but it's like his body is frozen in place. 

"Dan?" Phil's voice rings out again, and it's too loud. Dan wants to drown it out, wishes he could drown out the whole world right now. 

Phil turns to face him, looking questioningly at Dan. Dan should move, but his body just lays there and his face stays as it is, and he knows how it looks. He knows, but he doesn't change it, can't change it.

"Everything alright?" Phil's voice is so tentative, and Dan hates it. He hates it so much, he wants to punch a wall, punch himself, do _something_ other than just lay there.

He forces himself to nod, but he knows it's not convincing.

Phil looks worried. He looks scared, almost. He's probably wondering how they're going to get through the show tonight, and Dan's the worst person ever because he's not doing anything to help, anything to calm Phil's worries. He's still just bloody lying there like a catatonic moron, and he knows Phil gets anxiety in these situations, knows the whole meet and greet and performing thing is nerve-wracking enough for him on a normal day. He doesn't need Dan to make it worse, but he is, and Dan's the worst partner ever.

Phil's walking toward him now, sitting on the bed next to him and carding his fingers gently through Dan's hair.

"Babe, you've got to get up and shower, okay? Just do that, and we'll figure out the rest after." He's trying to sound calm and soothing, but even through Dan's fuzzy head he can hear the slightly panicked edge to Phil's voice.

They'd been through this on the last tour, a couple of times. It should be easier now. Somehow it's not, somehow it feels even harder.

Dan nods again, like it's all he knows how to do right now. He can hear the tiny sigh of relief Phil breathes out, and Dan wants to tear his own body apart. Phil doesn't deserve this shit. 

He forces himself to sit up, dragging his feet over the edge of the bed. He can do this. It's just a shower.

His limbs feel heavy as he pulls his body off the bed and onto his feet. Phil stands up too, looking unsure of what to do. He ends up wrapping his arms around Dan's body, pulling him in for a tight hug and pressing a kiss to Dan's cheek. 

All Dan feels is emptiness, complete and utter emptiness. He manages to squeeze Phil back, a hollow embrace that feels so horribly wrong. He lets go and shuffles past Phil to the bathroom.

\---

The water feels vaguely refreshing. Dan stands under the stream until his whole body feels like one large prune. 

He exits the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a slightly clearer mind, but he still feels like a ghost of himself. The bed looks so inviting, and Dan wishes he could crawl in there and sleep this whole thing away. He wishes it worked like that.

He drops his towel, staring at his suitcase. He sees Phil out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the bed and looking intently down at his phone. Dan figures he's trying to give him privacy. It doesn't matter, because right now Dan would feel naked no matter how many layers he had on.

His mind is whirring with thoughts again. Dan doesn't know how long he stands there, but suddenly Phil is standing next to him and holding out a pair of pants and a massive black hoodie. Dan slips the items on wordlessly.

Phil takes his hand, leading him back to the bed. Dan is thankful that Phil is apparently doing his thinking for him right now.

They lay side by side on the bed. Phil rests his hand on Dan's thigh, gently scratching up and down. Dan stares at the ceiling.

"We have to do the show, you know," Phil says quietly. "We can't cancel now."

Dan blinks. He does know that. 

"You can do this. You've done it before, yeah?" Phil's voice has an almost unnoticeable tremor, but it's mostly solid. Strong. Dan doesn't know if he feels comfort, or if he just feels like an even bigger failure.

When Dan doesn't say anything, Phil slides down on the bed and pulls Dan's head against his chest. He runs his fingers tenderly through Dan's wet hair. 

"You _can_ do this," Phil stresses, voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's hard." Dan focuses on the beating of Phil's heart against his cheek. "You'll get through it though, and you're gonna do great." 

He sounds confident, like he actually believes what he's saying. Dan doesn't believe it, doesn't know how Phil still has any confidence in him. He doesn't understand it, but Phil sounds so sure, and Dan wants desperately to trust him. 

He should eat something, he suddenly realizes. And drink something, probably water. His mouth is parched. He's not supposed to let himself ignore these things, even when he feels like everything is meaningless. 

He knows this, remembers the caring but stern words of his therapist, replays past conversations with her in his head. A voice inside his head tells him it will help, at least a little; a louder voice tells him it's not worth it, that nothing will actually help, not in the ways he needs anyways.

Neither of them have moved or spoken in minutes. They need to get going soon, they have a responsibility to so many people. Guilt suddenly churns in Dan's stomach, at him being the cause of them laying here uselessly.

"I need to eat," he croaks out, his throat dry from both lack of water and lack of speaking. It feels almost wrong to speak, to break the silence. Silence feels right, matches the hollow feeling in his core. 

"I don't have any food." Phil voice sounds so sad, so regretful. Dan hates that he's the cause of that. He wishes he had the energy right now to tell Phil how great he is, how it isn't his responsibility to deal with Dan's shit.

He's pretty sure Phil already knows that, knows they've had hundreds of conversations about this. It's hard to convince himself now though, hard to know for sure which part of his brain is telling the truth and which part is lying to him.

Phil jumps up from the bed, and a rush of coldness sweeps over Dan's body. He hears the minibar open, and a bottle of water is pressed gently into Dan's hand moments later. It crosses Dan's mind that Phil would never usually take something from the minibar, says it's a complete rip off. 

"Drink that up, okay? I think Marianne is ordering pizza for when we get to the venue. I know it's not the healthiest thing, but that'll do right?" Phil is rambling a little, but Dan doesn't mind. It gives him something to hold on to, something to keep him from listening to the jumble of thoughts in his head.

Phil glances at his phone, then tentatively back up at Dan. "We've really got to get going," he says gently. 

Dan nods, because that's apparently all he's capable of today. 

He feels like a zombie as he stumbles out of bed and pulls a pair of jeans on. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and sees that his hair has started drying weirdly, curls askew. He's half-heartedly running his fingers through it to try to tame the mess, when Phil steps in front of him and takes over. 

"There," Phil says, when he's satisfied with his work. He presses a quick kiss to Dan's nose. "You're ready to make all the young girls and boys faint. And some of the dads." He attempts a wink, then grins. Dan can tell the usual spark is missing from his eyes, but he's mostly certain Phil is trying to help, trying to make this whole thing easier for Dan.

He wants Phil to know he appreciates it, appreciates him so fucking much even when everything else feels like a complete waste of time, so he manages a half-smile back. "Not if they haven't all already fainted from seeing your ass in those jeans." 

His voice sounds dull even to him, and the truth is he hasn't even noticed what Phil's ass looks like today. He's sure he does look good though, and Phil's smiling just a little bit wider. Dan feels something loosen slightly in his chest. At least he did one thing right today. It's nice to know he can at least manage one good thing, even if the rest of his life is one big mistake.

\---

It's a short ride from the hotel to the venue. Dan stares out the window the entire way, taking in the surroundings. They're in an objectively beautiful city, but everything is washed over in a thin sheet of grey. He wishes he could see things in colour again. 

The logical side of his brain tells him it's only been a couple of days since everything was clear and vibrant, even less time since everything had been completely transformed into one giant dark cloud. It feels like longer though, always feels like an eternity. 

\---

The pizza had arrived just before them. They grab themselves their share and tuck away in a corner of the backstage area like usual. There's people milling around though, chatting and eating and working. 

Dan doesn't know how to act. Last tour, nobody - well, nobody but Phil, and Martyn and Cornelia - knew the real reason behind the days he would drift off, avoiding conversation even more than usual. This time is different - most people they work with, at least the ones they work with closely, know about Dan. They know he has depression. 

He doesn't want them to know. He doesn't want them all to know that he's not okay right now. This is part of the reason he kept it a secret for so long, because he didn't want people to be able to just _know_ when he was down in that dark space, for them to know and to treat him differently.

And, oh god. The viewers. They are going to know; Dan isn't going to be able to hide this. 

He is spiraling. He could register his palms getting sweaty, his hands trembling slightly. 

There is a firm hand on his shoulder suddenly, drawing him back down to earth, tethering him to reality. 

"You okay?" Phil asks quietly. 

Dan glances up to make sure nobody's paying attention to them. They aren't, because two introverted nerds really aren't all that exciting once you hang around them for weeks on tour. He shrugs, staring back down at his lap where his half-eaten slice of pizza is staring back at him.

Phil taps his leg, bringing Dan's attention back to his face. "Come with me, yeah?" He gets up, waiting for Dan to do the same.

Dan follows him out the door and into a smaller room, one with just a couple of old chairs and a mirror. He slumps into one of the chairs, the slats of wood digging uncomfortably into his back.

Phil pulls up the other chair and positions himself in front of Dan, close enough to rest a hand on Dan's thigh. He takes a moment to speak. Dan focuses on a smear on the mirror.

"We don't have to do this. If you don't think you can. We'll just tell everyone I got food poisoning or something." 

There's that gentle voice again, so fucking careful.

"Talk to me, Dan." Phil sounds a bit frustrated, or something. Dan doesn't blame him.

"It's fine." Dan's voice sounds harsh to his own ears. He doesn't mean for it to sound that way.

Phil sighs. "Is it really, though?" Dan sees him run a hand through his hair, messing up his quiff. "Maybe we should, I don't know, call your therapist or something, see what she thinks-"

Dan snorts. It's probably the loudest noise he's made all day. "What, because I can't make my own decisions? I'm depressed, Phil, not a fucking infant." Just saying the word _depressed_ makes his stomach churn. On a better day, he wouldn't hate himself for it, wouldn't feel ashamed of it. He does now though, hates it so much.

"That's not what - "

"Whatever. Do whatever you want." He doesn't mean it. He just wants this conversation to be over, to not have to bloody _think_ anymore. 

"Dan." Phil definitely sounds frustrated now. Also sad, Dan thinks. It's hard to tell over the constant white noise in his head. "You know pushing me away never solves anything."

Dan folds his arms over each other, still not meeting Phil's eyes. Phil's right. Deep down, he knows that, knows he needs to stop shutting Phil out. He'd promised he would stop doing that. He hadn't done it for so long, but it had also been a long time since he'd felt this bad. 

"Sorry," Dan mumbles. He _is_ sorry, but he's also feeling really irritated. At himself, at the whole situation, at Phil even. 

"Just - are you okay to do the show?" Phil asks. "Honest answer."

Dan mulls it over, trying to slow the rampant thoughts in his brain long enough to think clearly. He picks at the little piece of fluff stuck under his fingernail. 

"I really do think you can do it," Phil says, cutting into Dan's thoughts. "You're stronger than you think." He nudges Dan's foot with his own. "I just don't want you to push yourself too far. It's up to you."

 _It's up to you._ Dan closes his eyes. He wants to just not exist for a little while. He can't make decisions on a good day, never mind when he's feeling like this. 

He sits quietly for a few minutes, and Phil sits quietly with him. 

He knows he can do it, knows it in his gut. He's - sadly - gotten quite good in general at compartmentalizing over the years; he hasn't felt the need to do that as much in the recent years, but it's still a skill he has. 

Plus, he'd handled it on the days last tour, the days when he'd felt like this and didn't think he'd be able to plaster a smile on his face and get on with the show. He'd handled it then, so he should be able to handle it now, should be able to handle it even better.

A nagging feeling keeps telling him that it's harder this time, because people will know now. They know about him, and they'll take one look at him on that stage or while taking a selfie with him, and just _know_. He doesn't want the sympathy or the whispers or the speculation. 

"I don't want them to know," Dan whispers, voice moving before his brain can tell it to stop. He feels silly. It shouldn't matter if people know. He doesn't know why he even cares, why he's managing to care about _that_ of all things when he can barely muster up the strength to care about his own basic needs. 

Phil's quiet. Dan doesn't need to look at him, he can _feel_ the nervous energy in the air, the way Phil's brain is working a mile a minute. 

"Not everyone will notice," Phil finally speaks. "Maybe nobody will. And if some do - the few that do, they're not going to, like, judge you, Dan."

Dan shrugs.

"You know they're not. And I think - I think once you get up there, it will be easier." Phil squeezes Dan's knee. A phantom warmth flows through Dan's body, almost imperceptible. It's there though, and Dan clings to that, because he needs to cling to something, needs something to anchor him. "I think the adrenaline and stuff will take over. That's what you said the last time."

Dan's quiet for a minute, then nods. He finally looks up and meets Phil's eyes. Phil curls his lips up into a small smile. 

"Let's do this." Dan stands up, because he has to move now or he's going to change his mind. 

Or rather, he's probably not going to change his mind. He doesn't think he was ever going to go through with cancelling. He doesn't know why, but despite the crawling in his skin and constant negativity swarming through his head, he _wants_ to do this. Well, he doesn't _want_ to do it, more like he _has_ to do it. Something deep down is telling him that if he gives up now, just goes back to the hotel and gets into bed like a thousand voices are screaming in his head to do, that things will be so much worse.

Phil doesn't question him this time, doesn't ask if he's sure. He must know that's not what Dan needs right now. He also doesn't pull Dan in for a hug or do anything sappy. 

Instead, he stands up and simply holds his hand out for a high-five. "Let's do this, mate," Phil says with a grin when Dan returns the high-five, and Dan feels just a little bit lighter.

\---

Dan feels like he's running on autopilot throughout the meet and greet. He plasters a smile on his face and rotates through the set of four or five comments he has stocked up for general fan interaction. He doesn't feel anything, but maybe that's easier. The monotonous routine is keeping the bad thoughts out of his head, replacing them with a void canyon of darkness. He focuses on the whirl of activity around him, steadies himself with a touch of Phil's hand as he hands him the pen, the calm cadence of Phil's voice as he thanks a viewer for coming to the show, the brush of Phil's fingers against his waist as they pose for a selfie.

Everything's going okay, Dan's getting through it, and then there's a viewer standing there with such an earnest look on their face. They're telling Dan how he and Phil saved their life, how they wouldn't have gotten through it without their videos, how they wouldn't have been brave enough to seek help if it weren't for Dan speaking out.

Dan is frozen. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He feels like a fraud. Phil sweeps in and tells the fan something about how happy they are to hear things are better. Dan knows he needs to do something, so he forces a big smile and hugs the viewer and tells them how proud he is.

It feels so wrong. He doesn't know how he could possibly be a role model for others, be someone's source of happiness, when he can't even keep his own life together, can't even save himself from his own demons.

The rest of the meet and greet is fine. He forces the last interaction to the deepest corners of his mind, because that's what he's good at. He smiles and signs and hugs and poses. A few of those smiles are actually somewhere approaching genuine. It's fine - not great, but fine. Dan takes that as a win.

\---

The time between the meet and greet and the show is a blur. Dan busies himself with going over the details of the show, over and over again. It's way beyond over-preparation, and he doesn't retain half the things he reads, but it's something. He's doing something, and that's better than the alternative. The racing thoughts can't slip through as much if he busies his mind with other things.

Phil's doing his regular pre-show things as well. He's getting things ready for the show and talking to the crew and warming up his voice, doing everything that isn't just hovering over Dan. And that's good - normality is key right now, is what's keeping Dan from crumbling.

\---

The show is mostly a blur as well. Phil was right - the adrenaline kicks in, and Performer Dan takes over, and he's on autopilot again. He goes through the motions, and his mouth is saying things and making jokes, and he hears cheers and laughs.

He feels vulnerable standing up there in front of thousands of people, feels exposed, like everyone can see right through him, see his darkest thoughts written in bold across his forehead. The cheers and laughs are still going though. The world is still moving around him like nothing has changed, so Dan keeps moving too. 

\---

His body crashes after the show, like a junkie coming down from a high. There's people backstage congratulating them on another great show, but Dan needs to get out of there. 

Phil must understand, because soon enough Dan is being told to follow him outside, out to the car waiting to take them back to the hotel. 

Phil holds his hand the whole way back, but doesn't say a word while Dan stares out the window. It's dark now and his bones still ache, but he feels a bit more calm, safe almost.

He barely manages to pull his shirt over his head and tug his jeans off before he's crawling back into bed, pulling the covers tight around his chest. He's almost asleep when Phil joins him soon after, pressing his chest to Dan's back and wrapping his arms around him. 

A single tear rolls down Dan's cheek, then another. He doesn't bother to wipe them away. He feels some relief, because crying is better than feeling nothing at all.

\---

Dan opens one eye as he wakes up, squinting at the alarm clock on the hotel's bedside table. 2:56 p.m.

He has a slight panic, before he remembers they have today off. Overwhelming relief courses through his body.

He rolls over, and notices Phil sat up in bed next to him, playing on his phone. He doesn't notice Dan's awake right away, still tapping away on his phone.

Dan yawns. "Morning."

Phil glances away from his phone, and smiles down at Dan. He drops the phone on the mattress beside him, then scoots down until he's lying next to Dan again.

"Morning." He presses a chaste kiss to Dan's lips. It's closed mouthed, but Dan can still taste the slight sourness of a not-yet-cleaned mouth. His own mouth probably tastes just as bad, but Dan lingers on the kiss nevertheless. It feels like home. Phil pulls back after a moment, still laying on his side facing Dan. "How do you feel?"

Dan turns so he's laying flat on his back and closes his eyes again. He lays there for a minute, taking stock of how he feels. 

He still feels quite groggy, still feels a phantom ache in his entire body. His mind feels clearer though, so much clearer than yesterday. There isn't an all-consuming ache in his chest. He feels sad, and a little bit anxious - but he doesn't feel empty.

There's a lump in his throat, and he swallows it back, opening his eyes again. He wants to cry, but not sad tears - well, maybe partly sad tears, but also tears of relief. 

There's nothing worse than the empty feeling, nothing worse than feeling like a ghost of himself. Sometimes, that feeling lasts for _days_ , and he's so relieved, so fucking relieved that this isn't one of those times.

"Sad," is what he answers Phil, and tears are streaming down his face now. There's a small smile on Phil's face though as he wipes the tears away and wraps Dan up in a cuddle, because Phil knows Dan well enough to know that 'sad' is not remotely close to the worst state Dan can be in.

Phil's stomach rumbles loudly in the middle of the hug, and Dan pulls back, letting out a small laugh. It feels like it's been ages since he's properly laughed, even though it's only been a couple of days.

Phil laughs too, and Dan grins at his face, at the piece of hair sticking straight up and the dried sleep in the corner of his eye. Fuck, he's so beautiful. Dan is so relieved that he can appreciate how beautiful he is again.

"Let's get you some food, you dork." Dan crawls out of bed to get the room service menu from the desk across the room. 

It's still a bit of a struggle to get out of bed, but it's important to him that he does it. He knows he has to get back on track; he's getting there, already woke up feeling much better, but now it's his job to push himself and do what he can to keep himself above water. His therapist always tells him it starts with the small things, even the things that would seem unimportant and natural to other people, like getting out of bed to grab a menu and ordering himself a nutritious salad along with Phil's stack of pancakes.

He feels a touch of pride as he sets the phone down after ordering, and he lets himself momentarily bask in that pride. He deserves to feel good about these things, even when his brain is telling him it's stupid. 

\---

They take turns showering while they wait for the food to arrive, then engage in mindless chitchat while they eat. Dan knows they need to talk about yesterday, knows it's the healthy thing to do, but they've also learned over the years that it's better to give it a bit of space first. He needs - they both need - time to breathe afterwards, to get back into the normality of every day life before moving straight into a heavy discussion. They've learned from past mistakes that it's especially important they make sure Dan is back in the right headspace before they have a more serious conversation.

Dan's the one to bring it up this time, as they're laying in bed flipping through the boring programs on the hotel telly. They're staying here again tonight and leaving in the morning, as their show tomorrow is only a couple hours away. Dan's relieved that they have the time to themselves, that they don't need to spend the night in a tour bus with little privacy.

He feels a little guilty that they haven't left the room all day. He hasn't done any exercise, but he _has_ gotten out of bed a few times, showered and brushed his teeth, and eaten a healthy meal, so he's counting that as a win for today. Small steps are better than no steps at all.

"Have you read anything about the show yesterday?" Dan asks. 

Phil mutes the television. He twists his body to face Dan, and Dan does the same. 

"Not that much. A little bit on Twitter." Phil adjusts his pillow and scoots his body a little closer to Dan's. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Dan sighs quietly, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Would it be so bad if there was? Like, if people had noticed anything?" Phil draws his bare foot along Dan's ankle, and Dan jumps slightly from the ice cold touch.

"Your feet are freezing." Dan traps Phil's foot between his calves and rubs them together, hoping to bring some warmth back to his toes. "I don't know," he continues, going back to Phil's question. "I just felt like shit. Still do, to be honest." He scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm fine with people knowing, but it's different than them _knowing_ , you know?"

He's aware that sentence barely made any sense, but Phil's nodding along.

"Yeah, I know. Trust me, I get it." 

Of course Phil gets it. If anyone knows anything about keeping the general public at a distance, it's Phil. They've had this discussion a thousand times in a thousand different ways, but somehow this situation felt different. 

There was a whole other layer of vulnerability involved with Dan actually being in the presence of the people who usually watched him through a screen - it was one thing to let down his guard in a video or Youtube live show, and a completely different thing to do that in front of actual real people. 

"I felt like such a fraud. Like I was lying to all these people without even saying anything." Dan still feels way too exposed saying these types of things to Phil. His heart still races a bit, his gut still clenches a little at the thought of opening himself up entirely to another person. He's had lots of practice though, and he's gotten so much better at it over the years. And it's Phil - he can trust Phil, even when he can't trust himself.

"You don't owe anyone anything, though. It's your life, not their's." 

"It's not just that, though." Dan's voice wobbles. "I felt like I was letting myself down, too." His chin trembles. "I hate that I can't handle simple things sometimes. I fucking hate it." He takes a deep breath, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "I know I'm not supposed to feel bad about it, and it's not my fault and all that shit, but I still fucking hate it."

"Dan-" Phil reaches his hand out, presumably to comfort Dan in some way, but Dan pushes it back.

"Don't, it'll just make me cry and I'm trying to keep it together." He laughs shortly. "And you know me, once you get me started I'm a fucking waterfall. Seriously, we need to invest in a raincoat for you one of these days."

Phil laughs softly as well. 

Dan wipes at his nose that's started to drip a little. "I just - I really hate that I leave you to deal with all of the shit when I'm like that. It's not fair. I know how hard the meet and greets and everything can be for you. I feel like an ass for making it harder for you yesterday."

Phil's quiet for a moment. "I mean, it _was_ hard." Dan feels him place his hand on Dan's hip, tracing light circles along the flesh. "I'm not going to lie and say it was all fine. You already know how hard it is for me to see you like that."

Dan nods. It still makes him a little sad, but not guilty. Not anymore, at least not when he's in the right mental state to know this isn't his fault. They've had this same conversation enough times, had enough misunderstandings and follow-up conversations to now know exactly how the other feels. Dan knows Phil doesn't blame him, but that it's still really difficult for him too. 

"And, like, I'm a massive worrier in general." 

"The biggest," Dan agrees, smirking. "You're ridiculous sometimes," he adds, in a fond tone.

Phil punches his shoulder lightly, but he's smiling now too. "Shut up." 

"Make me," Dan taunts. 

Phil leans in slowly and Dan's lips begin to part, and then Phil licks a long strip from his chin up to his cheek.

Dan laughs fully this time, pushing Phil back and wiping the slobber dramatically off his face. God, it feels so good to properly laugh. 

Phil's laughing too, but Dan can tell he's working to pull himself together. "Stop trying to distract me."

"Go on," Dan says, gesturing for Phil to continue.

"So yeah, basically, it wasn't the easiest thing and I was shitting it half the time. But like, we got through it, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Not to be all cheesy or whatever, but we're a team."

Dan fake gags.

"Stop it, you spoon. You know I'm right. You help me through my shit, I help you through yours-"

"Very poetic, Phil."

"-and we get through it together," Phil continues, ignoring Dan's sarcastic remark. "You never have to feel bad about that, you know," he adds in a softer tone.

Dan huffs dramatically. "Yeah yeah, I know. Try telling the ol' stupid brain that. Doesn't like to listen sometimes." He rolls his eyes at himself.

Phil grins back, snuggling in closer to Dan. "Love you. And your brain." He bites playfully at Dan's shoulder. "Your face, on the other hand, I could take or leave."

Dan just pulls him in closer. There's still a blurry edge to the world around him, but now the tug in his chest is because of the love he feels for the dork wrapped up in his arms.

\---

It's a few weeks later, and they're preparing for yet another show.

"You sure you want to include that one?" Phil asks, glancing up from the paper he's writing on.

"Yeah, I'm sure." 

It's a topic they've been avoiding this tour from the list of questions sent in by the viewers - mainly because they have been trying to keep that segment of the show fairly light, but also partly because they weren't sure how they would feel talking about a heavier topic in front of a live audience. 

Dan still isn't sure how personal he wants to get, but he's made up his mind that he's at least comfortable with the topic being included in some way.

When they get to the honest discussion segment of the show, Phil starts with reading a question about how to get started on Youtube.

He goes with the more serious question next, and Dan figures he did that on purpose, burying the deeper question between two lighter ones.

"I've been struggling a lot with depression lately. What do you do when things get rough?" Phil reads out.

"I think that it's important to try to stay positive, do all the things you're supposed to, like actually _going outside_ ," Dan starts with his rehearsed lines, saying the last part dramatically. That earns the normal cheers and 'ughs' from the audience at the mention of going outside. "I know right? But it actually helps."

He continues with another previously planned line about how _exercise_ and _going to bed early_ are unfortunately also really important. He keeps it general, focusing on the generic things that are important for dealing with depression.

Phil nods along, adding a few words of agreement here and there, but mostly leaving it to Dan. 

There's a brief pause, and Phil looks down, presumably to read out the next question. Dan takes a deep breath, then begins speaking again before Phil can move on.

"I think it's also really important to let others be there for you, and to remember that things _will_ get better." 

He meets Phil's eyes briefly, and Phil gives him an encouraging smile. 

"I actually had a pretty bad depressive episode a few weeks ago." He swallows through the fear, instead pretending there's no audience and it's just him and Phil. "And it was on a show day, so you know, bad timing. Satan is clearly punishing me for something. Probably the furry google searches," he says, referencing a previous segment of the show, and that earns a laugh from the audience. "But hey, I'm still here being an embarrassing flop on stage for your entertainment. So basically what I'm saying is, if I can get through it, so can you."

The audience cheers, and Phil reads out the next question and they all move on. It was still short and sweet, and Dan hadn't poured his heart out or gotten too sappy, because that isn't who he is. He'd been honest though, let himself be a bit more vulnerable than he usually would, and nothing had changed. The audience was now cracking up over something Phil was saying about asking your crush out - time hasn't stopped, everything is still going on as normal.

Dan catches Phil's eye as they move onto the next segment, and they share a small smile before carrying on with the rest of the show.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Alibis" by Marianas Trench
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr post [ here ](https://onedirectionticketss1.tumblr.com/post/174679842863/title-all-my-faces-are-alibis-word-count-74k)


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